“We are the species,” said Miss Miniver, “men are only incidents. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. “I have never yet met a man whose intellect I could respect. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. An old man and a young girl, the one as stubbornly offensive as the other. Do you think I would marry you? Rather would I marry the pig in the convent.
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